THE WAY WE WERE

After addressing the issues raised in the letter from the District Officer and emphasizing strong feelings on the intent of Christian religion and its effects on our culture, and all the new lines of thought advocated by the District Officer’s administration, Chueke said to the Assistant District Officer, “I will present the contents of your letter to Ikwu l’ibe [friends, relatives, the public] and we will get results.” He added that, “in our tradition we are republican minded, no man can take initiatives on behalf of the public without the consent of the general public.” Chueke alluded to the fact that the Igbos have a traditional democratic process, where no single man speaks on behalf of the populace without authorization.

 

Chueke and other members of the County Council of the Elders met secretly and discussed the contents of the letter. He sent out feelers to get opinions and to find out the depth of the influence of Ndi ofe miri and its religions in society. He received reports showing that the influence was overwhelming. The reports said, “disintegration of our culture is now (today) beyond expectations, the ‘Luke-warm’ group and the main Christian faction have succeeded and the social infrastructure has reached its lowest ebb. Those who compiled the reports even suggested to Chueke not to call another town-hall meeting which he planned to announce, fearing that it would be a failure and therefore not worth the effort. The report added, “they would be many in attendance who would not even understand the typical Alayi dialect. Chueke listened intently to their recommendations but said, Aka ura ka njo l’akwoghu akwo, meaning a filthy hand is made worse by not washing. He softly added, “I will call the town-hall meeting, yes,” he emphasized “I will!”

 

Chueke announced the town hall meeting, the third and what would be his last general address to his people to air his defense for his beliefs, tradition and culture against foreign influence. He was very old now but blessed by nature; a fighter who would rather go down fighting for what he believed in than surrender. He was not afraid of losing the battle, but mindful of how he lost it. Nothing would deter him now from expressing his conviction to his people. He had done it successfully many times in the past, and if this proved a failure, at least he knew that he had tried.

 

On the day of the town-hall meeting, there were people from all over the counties who came to answer a call from Chueke. It was the most crowded gathering ever. The attendance out-numbered those of the two previous town-hall meetings. People sat in sections according to their social stratification, ideological beliefs and traditions. They were young and old. Young girls sat with old men. Old people sat with young boys. The composition of the crowd was rather confusing according to our traditional settings. Young boys and girls smoking a slim piece of white chalk-like stick, which they called sigaret [cigarettes]. Some of them smoked a locally grown weed which they said makes a person feel good and drunk. Smoke bellowing in the air from the crowd. Young men in dark sunglasses, some of them wore tweed jackets, wool jackets, trench coats and alpaca jackets.

 

Long woolen jackets, Aran sweaters and full size London fog coats in a tropical climate of 110 degrees Fahrenheit—all in the name of so-called civilization. Others wore large black hats, some wore caps twisted backwards. Some ladies wore skin tight trousers, while others wore short skirts, so short that they could not bend down without making a mockery of themselves. Girls kissed boys in public. Some men had their ears pierced with a single earring dangling on the ear. Boys and girls drank bottles of beer. Others ate food, throwing garbage on the ground. Old women kissed young men, calling them “my lover.” Mothers wandered aimlessly emaciated, and dazed from family problems with their sons and daughters. Young teenage girls carried their newborn children. Some young men wore large saucer plate-size gold medals on their necks. Ladies wore short pants cut down to their buttocks. Young men wore over-sized trousers hanging and falling off their waists. Ladies wore men’s suits. Men dressed up with a piece of cloth tied on their neck, which they called a necktie. Females wore globe-size earrings. Some young men wore shoes with untied laces dragging on the floor. Men had tangled hair, and some of them braided their hair. Young men and women slept on their feet, occasionally tilting to a falling position, then standing, then dozing again. Other people were busy with what they called transistor radios, playing music that they alone understood. In one section of the gathering, old women stood up while young men sat on a seat. People even coughed and yawned without covering their mouths. On the far left side of the gathering an old lady was abused by a young man because she had asked for a seat. It was in fact a heterogeneous composition of “everything goes.” But one of the strange characteristics of this crowd was its quiescence. It was like a very large open air market, but lacked the characteristic noise. It looked like a big outdoor picnic. But the participant, behaved like animals in a zoo, separated by invisible boundaries with each to its own.

 

Chueke arrived at the podium with his two young traditionalist escorts, one on each side. He was offered a seat by his escorts. After a brief rest he stood up and greeted the audience. Some in the crowd were so distracted by the standing ovation given to Chueke by his traditionalist group that they joined the hand clapping without knowing why they were clapping.

 

Chueke looked at the crowd. He knew that things had changed and would never be the same. But it was late and he must do what he knew how to do best. He began his statement of address to the crowd by saying, “We have received a reply from the District Officer and his Assistant. It was a lengthy one indeed! We, as your elders, have addressed the issues. We would like to hear your opinions. We cannot respond to their new requests without knowing how you feel.” The audience was quiet. Chueke continued, “since you have no answers yet, I would like to tell you a story which will help you make your decision. I will also tell you how we got to where we are today.” He added, “this is the story of how a culture was lost.” Chueke began his story:

 

There was a tree called Mmimi, which bore millions of seeds or fruits each season. Its fruits were known as: Omelala nde mmadu du iche iche [traditions and cultures of different nations]. On it were many branches and each branch represented an ethnic culture and its distinct characteristic. It was forbidden by the laws of the land to mix its fruits, nor should anyone eat a fruit from more than one of its branches. It was said that such an act would cause hallucinations to whoever broke the law. These rules were kept and the values of Mmimi Omelala nde mmadu du iche iche was honored and revered throughout the land, and everything went well. The ancestors said that mixing the fruits of this tree or eating fruits from its various branches together would unleash an uncontrollable epidemic similar to that of influenza throughout the land. It was also said by the ancestors that this disease would bring with it self-denial, lack of pride of an individual’s inheritance and self-destruction.

 

One day a group of individuals from an unknown distant land said to have come from Ofe Miri [across the river; ocean] came to visit the village where this beautiful heterogeneous tree stood. They demanded to be taken to its site and the village Elders assigned a group of tour guides to accompany them. After examining this wonderful tree, the visiting strangers were amazed but puzzled by its qualities. But they realized that this heterogeneous tree was the binding force that controlled the land and its citizens. They decided that the existence of this tree was their main obstacle in defeating the people. The strangers planned to destroy the tree by uprooting and burning its leaves, but knew that should they try to physically implement their desire they would encounter resistance from the community. One of the strangers commented to the tour guides and said “My friends, for centuries your ancestors have been fabricating lies about this tree. Can you point out one man in this land who has suffered on account of breaking the laws of this tree?” In response, they encouraged the tour guides to eat the fruits in reverse order, by mixing fruits from one branch with another.

 

After seven days all those who ate the fruits in mixed order became sick. At first it looked like they were suffering from a debilitating contagious flu. The perceptible change in the body or its functions that indicated disease was classified as subjective. The general aspect of this disease included gradual but progressive denunciation of one’s beliefs, disassociation from everything that an individual had believed in, refusal to eat African foods and the tarnishing of everything that distinguished an individual from other ethnic groups. The cause of sickness was diagnosed as being associated with eating and digesting numerous mixed fruits of Mmimi-Omelala nde mmadu du iche iche. The term denoting the name of the disease a person has, or is believed to have, was very difficult because this disease had no history, therefore it was not possible to evaluate and provide a logical basis for treatment and prognosis.

 

The Elders summoned all the Dibia [general title for an African native doctor regardless of his branch of practice] in the land. They were asked to find the cause and the cure for this disease that was destroying society. The association of the convened Dibia appointed three great Dibia to lead this investigation. Among the three appointed were: Dibia Ogbaja [an African native doctor; a Seer, psychic], Dibia Ogwo oria [an African native doctor who specialized in the cure of sickness] and Dibia Oje mba [a traveling native doctor]. Dibia Oje mba was made the chief doctor of this operation. He was chosen above all because he could write and speak many dialects and languages and traveled extensively.

 

The three Dibia started investigating. The first Dibia to examine the victims was Dibia Oje mba. He thought that since the victims refused to eat African foods that it was a disease resulting from a protein deficiency, and he called it kwashiorkor. The second Dibia, Ogwo oria, classified the victims’ sickness to be a degenerative process of the brain, known as encephalitis. The third Dibia, Dibia Ogbaja was as baffled as his victims, however, being a psychic he was able to determine or find out what went wrong. He discovered that each victim had eaten the fruits of Mmimi Omelala ndi mmadu du iche iche in reverse order. He informed the Elders that these victims were suffering from a false perception. Diagnosis: h., hypnagogic—pre-sleep phenomena having the same practical significance as a dream but experienced while conscious. The interval between exposure to infection and the appearance of the first symptom is seven days. He characterized the disease as progressive, meaning advancing from bad to worse. Prediction of its course was unknown, so he wrote P. aceps., meaning doubtful  prognosis. A course of treatment to restore health impossible or nonexistent.

 

The team of Dibia concluded that there was no cure for the disease. They found out that its symptoms were lack of rudimentary respect; condemning one’s traditions; a reproachful attitude toward one’s traditions, being critical of one’s beliefs; finding fault and being ashamed of one’s traditions, the refusal to speak one’s language in public; self-denial, including the refusal to wear one’s traditional dress; lack of pride including disavowing one’s traditional arts, dressing and foods; and most of all, self-degradation including chasing material things not compatible with the individual’s way of life and dreaming of things that are not applicable in his society. In short, disavowing everything that made him distinct from other ethnic groups. The diagnosis was that this contagious epidemic, known as hypnagogic, would sweep throughout the land and destroy the fabric of our society. Most of all the team of Dibia noted the alarming progressive nature of this disease. Declaring that the culture was lost, the team of Dibia issued a joint statement, warning the Elders that things would never be the same. Stressing that a man without a culture has no direction, they wrote: “Trying to govern an ethnic group without a culture is like a person picking up a large plastic bag filled with water. As the weight is applied on the plastic, the mass of water shifts from side to side at different rates, thus making it impossible for the applying force to control it.”

 

After telling the story, Chueke ended with his final unusual remarks saying, Unu cheru wo unu j’adu aghu, meaning, what do you think will happen to you? Chueke— in a philosophical way was asking the crowd to take inventory of themselves and to predict their own future. There was no response from the audience, instead everyone seemed busily engaged in his or her interest. It was as if he never spoke; as if the gathering was nothing but an opportunity to meet one another. Boys and girls were hugging and kissing one another. Married women were busy chatting with men other than their husbands.

 

Chueke repeated what would be his last appeal to a society he had fought so hard to preserve. He asked again, “Unu siri, unu j’adu aghu?” what do you think will happen to you? For the second time there were no answers. He repeated the same question for the third time saying, “Unu siri wo unu  j’adu aghee?” A drunkard from the “Lukewarm” section of the gathering, clinching a bottle of ‘Golden Star lager beer,’ with  cigarette smoke running into his eyes, raised the bottle high and shouted, “K’anyi di na ugbua!,” meaning, the way we are right now, today. Chueke knew that the culture had been lost. Immediately the crowd broke into spontaneous chants shouting, “K’anyi di na ugbua, K’anyi di na ugbua, K’anyi di na ugbua. The majority of those shouting were doing so simply because they heard others shouting “the way we are now.” They couldn’t explain what they were responding to. After some minutes of chanting, Chueke raised his hands in the air and his traditionalist group quickly restored order.

 

Chueke was angered by the chants. He stretched his right hand in front of the crowd, gently moving it from east to west and said, “Look at you! Look at you! Look at you and listen to your cries. Look at you and the way you dress, all in the name of civilization and imitation of your newfound culture.” Chueke then poetically summed up the crowd’s future with a series of querying statements, saying, “What would be the future of teenagers having children, when the mothers are children themselves? What would be the future of children who adamantly refuse to learn, not because of any learning impairments but because they choose laziness and refuse to be trained? What would be the future of a nation that refuses to feed herself, but expects to be fed by another? What would be the future of this generation who scorned the expression of appreciation for a gift given, but who expects more than they would ever offer. What would be the measure of a society if you sold your identities to foreign influence and cultures? If there would be a generation after you, what would you teach them? There is no greater blessing to an ethnic group than the gift of a culture. What would be the future of a generation who destroys what they have to seek the unknown? And what would be the future of a nation who trades in its culture, traditions, beliefs, and arts, to embrace those of another? What would the future of family life be when your new order; States and Federations, step in to tell parents how to bring up their children? What would be the future for a generation whose dependence on drug addiction is a way of life? What kind of society would you have if the laws of your new order give independence to children living under their parent’s roof?

 

What would be the morals of your society when parents are held hostage by their children? What offspring could be produced if men loved men and women loved one another? Does it mean that apart from their abominations, they fail to realize that without cross-pollination a seed would not be harvested? What would be your strength when everyone thinks only for himself? And what would be your future when you do not know your present?” Chueke looked at the crowd steadily for a moment; without speaking, he hung down his head and wept, walking away without waiting for any response from the crowd.